


Gone

by shadowsamurai



Category: Waking the Dead (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Gen, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-01
Updated: 2012-07-01
Packaged: 2017-11-08 23:27:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/448736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowsamurai/pseuds/shadowsamurai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He just couldn't understand how things had gone so wrong. Didn't know how to fix it. Not just with her, with them all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gone

**Author's Note:**

> AU. Boyd and Grace are already in an established relationship. And there's a twist…of course. All lyrics used belong to the Righteous Brothers.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything, I'm just borrowing things for a while and I promise I'll put everything back exactly how I found it when I've finished. Well, almost exactly how I found it. ;)

WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD

Boyd closed the door and leant against it heavily, his eyes closed, breathing deeply, as though the air could cleanse his system of the rage he felt. Frustration and anger were no stranger to him, but this constant feeling that everything was slipping from his grasp was driving him crazy. Work was a bigger nightmare than normal, everybody wanting everything done yesterday, and it seemed that no matter how quickly he worked, or how detailed his reports were, it just wasn't enough. To make matters worse, if such a thing was possible, the team was coming apart at the seams, everybody arguing with each other, blaming each other for such inconsequential things, it made Boyd's blood boil, and no matter how much he yelled or threatened, nothing changed.

And then there was his home life. He had enjoyed a surprisingly stable relationship with Grace for a number of years, and never before had their private lives intruded on the working atmosphere, but lately things had been different. Grace was distant with him, and she turned up for work less and less frequently. Boyd was covering for her absences as much as he could, but he didn't know how much longer he could keep lying for her, and when he tried to talk to her about it, she would either change the subject or simply not answer.

*You never close your eyes any more when I kiss your lips  
And there's no tenderness like before in your fingertips  
You're trying hard not to show it, but, baby, baby, I know it*

Grace was home, Boyd knew. There was a dim light coming from the living room, and he was certain she would have heard him come in, but for once he didn't want to fight. The urge to simply go upstairs, shower, and fall into bed was all too tempting, but he knew he couldn't just ignore her. Squaring his shoulders, steeling himself for something unpleasant, Boyd walked down the hall, pausing just outside the living room door.

Grace was sat on the couch facing the window, her back to the door. It looked as though she was reading, but he couldn't be sure. A single lamp lit the room, and it was quiet. Boyd knew immediately there would be no happy ending from this encounter, and he was starting to think about moving his things out. But every time he had suggested that, Grace told him not to be stupid. In fact, it was one of the few times she spoke to him any more.

*You've lost that loving feeling, oh that loving feeling  
You've lost that loving feeling, now it's gone, gone, gone*

Wordlessly, Boyd walked into the room and sat down. Grace didn't even acknowledge his presence, and when he reached to cup her cheek, she turned away. His fingers curling into a fist, Boyd sighed raggedly.

"What's going on, Grace?" he asked softly. "What's happening to us?"

She didn't answer, just picked up the glass from the side table and took a long drink from it.

Boyd stared at the glass. "Whisky? When did you start drinking whisky?"

"Nice, warming stuff," Grace replied quietly, her words slurred a little.

"No wonder my supply is going down so quickly. I thought it was just me," Boyd muttered, shaking his head. "You weren't at work again today."

Grace sighed. "What's the point?"

"This isn't like you, Grace!" Boyd's voice started to rise, and to keep himself a little calmer, he got up and started to pace. "We've been through so much together. I thought you could talk to me!" He suddenly dropped to his knees in front of her and took her hands in his. They felt like ice. "Talk to me, Grace," he pleaded.

*Now there's no tenderness in your eyes when I reach for you  
And, girl, you're starting to criticise little things I do  
It makes me just feel like crying, 'cause, baby, something beautiful's dying*

But she simply shook off his touch and stood, draining the glass and walking out of the room without looking back. Normally, Boyd let her go, not having the will to fight, but tonight was different. Tonight he had finally had enough, and he rose, intent on confronting her once and for all. But she wasn't in the kitchen, and there was no sound coming from upstairs, but the front door hadn't been opened, so upstairs was the only place she could be.

Boyd found Grace in the bedroom, staring out of the window. He closed the door as noisily as he could, but she didn't even twitch. Anger bubbling in him once more, Boyd decided he wasn't holding back any longer.

"I'm sick of this, Grace! You skulk around the house without giving me any indication of what's wrong with you," he shouted. "You don't turn up for work, and when you do, you don't do anything! The rest of the team isn't any better, always bloody arguing with each other like kids! I'm tired of it all!"

"I don't care any more," Grace said.

"Well I bloody well do!" Boyd retorted. "I've worked hard at this relationship, in case you haven't noticed. Everything I've done, I've done to please you! And now, for no damn reason at all, you push me away and treat me like shit!"

"I don't care any more," Grace repeated, her voice stronger and firmer than before.

*You've lost that loving feeling, oh that loving feeling  
Bring back that loving feeling, now it's gone, gone, gone  
And I can't go on, oh, no, no*

"That's it!" Boyd shouted, yanking open the wardrobe door. "I'm leaving!"

Behind him, Grace sank onto the edge of the bed and started to sob. "Don't go. Don't leave me," she whispered.

"There's no reason for me to stay," Boyd replied harshly.

Grace shook her head. "Why did you leave me, Peter? Why?"

Boyd stopped what he was doing. "I haven't left, Grace. I'm still here." He turned to look at her, to see what was going through that beautiful mind of hers, and he noticed she was cradling a photo frame in one hand, stroking the picture with a single finger, something clearly clenched in her hand. Frowning in confusion, Boyd rounded the bed to see what Grace was crying over.

It was a photo of them both, taken not long ago, on one of those picture-perfect days when the sky is clear blue and the sun is shining. Boyd was stood behind Grace, his arms around her waist, his chin on her shoulder, his eyes mirroring the smile on his face. Grace's hands covered his, and she was leaning her cheek against his, her expression mirroring his.

"I've always loved that photo," Boyd murmured.

*Baby, baby, I'd get down on my knees for you  
If you would only love me like you used to do  
We had a love, a love, a love you don't find every day  
So don't, don't, don't let it slip away*

Grace's sobbing intensified and the photo frame slipped from her grasp, thudding as it hit the carpeted floor. As she moved to cover her face with her hands, the item she had been hiding in her other hand slipped free too. And Boyd could only stare. It was his watch, the watch Grace had given him as an anniversary present, the watch that never left his wrist, ever….

Shaking, Boyd looked at his right wrist and saw it was plainly empty. Then he looked back at the wardrobe, noticing all his clothes were all still there, and found himself more confused than ever. Not understanding what was going on, he ran a hand through his hair, and found it was soaking wet. It was dry as a desert outside. Boyd looked down at his clothes and uttered a startled oath. He was wearing his heavy coat, stained and patchy with rain, and the same suit he had been wearing when….

"Oh my God," he murmured.

Without grace or finesse, Boyd sank to floor opposite from Grace. Things were slowly starting to fit together. He had been on his way home from work, stopped at the traffic lights, and two carjackers had attacked him. It was pissing with rain and he could hardly see the road ahead, let alone the two men lurking near the lights. There was some sort of struggle and then….

Boyd looked down at his hands again and realised they weren't wet from rain; they were stained blood-red, and tentatively he reached up to his slicked hair again. His fingertips came away freshly damp with blood. His blood. One of the carjackers had shot him in the head. It was the last thing he remembered. Except for Grace. He couldn't forget Grace, and the memory of her had brought him back, walking through the motions of life not alive, but only half dead. And with no clue how to escape his torment.

Mirroring Grace's posture, Boyd covered his face with his hands and began to cry.

*Bring back that loving feeling, oh, that loving feeling  
Bring back that loving feeling, now it's gone, gone, gone  
And I can't go on, oh, no, no*

FIN

**Author's Note:**

> So I nicked the idea from 'Sixth Sense', but I couldn't well put that at the beginning, could I? ;)


End file.
